Family History
by Princess Pinky
Summary: Clara finally asks The Doctor about his family tree.


**A/N: **Okay, I had a lot of fic ideas after "Death in Heaven," so spoilers!

_**Family History**_

"Sit."

The Doctor wobbled uncomfortably in front of his much smaller—though far more menacing—traveling companion. "What did I do?" he asked, trying in earnest to put on a show of innocent brows while he double and tripled checked his admittedly enormous brain for recent offenses.

"Sit," Clara repeated with her arms folded tightly across her chest.

"O.K." The Doctor toppled back onto her sofa and awkwardly folded one leg over the other. Under Clara's stoic gaze he fumbled his arms into a tangled knot. "Sitting," he gently pointed out.

Clara pulled forward a chair that matched the set from her kitchen table, having evidently prepared the room for this confrontation ahead of time just like the bossy control freak she was. She promptly sat down and stared dead ahead.

"So…" he whistled. "Nice weather."

"Tell me about your family."

The Doctor blew a puff of air out his nostrils. "What?"

"You've family bombed me twice now: first on Akhaten with the granddaughter and then on Trenzalore with the wife and as of yesterday I have personally attended your wedding to Queen Elizabeth I!"

"To be fair, I was kind of forced into that one–"

"Doctor!"

"Okay!" The Doctor cried, raising his hands. "All right! No need to shout…"

"How many others? I mean, I don't want to meet another famous person and find out your old bed buddies, it's just _weird_. Like thinking about your parents—"

"Hey, whoa! _Me_ thinking about _you_ thinking about _that_ is _weird!_"

Clara mirrored his defensive posture. "Fine, fine…but just…square it all out with me, okay? For all I know, you've walked down the aisle with Marilyn Monroe!"

"Hey!" he snapped. "That was_ not_ a real chapel!"

"You are _not _serious!"

The Doctor's cheeks bloomed and he let out a small squeak. "Accidental engagements, they're unavoidable. Happens to everyone!"

"No. No it doesn't! And 'accidental engagement' is not the same thing is an 'accidental marriage.'"

The Doctor folded and unfolded his legs again. "Fine, but I'll be the one who's scolding when it happens to you."

Clara scowled again. "How many others? Marriages, not engagements."

He snorted. "One. Her name was Scarlette and I was in my eighth body. She was my first marriage."

"And the mother of your children?"

"What? No! No, no, no. You're so old fashion, you humans. Well…in many ways, so were Time Lords. My first engagement was a betrothal—that was the mother of my children. Our families were generations old friends and we were as well. What is it that you human kids say nowadays? Friends-with-benefits?" He noted Clara wince and sniggered a little. "Our families were scandalized and insisted we marry immediately. It was a horrid affair and by the time we were both up in front of everyone ready to say our vows, we both decided we'd had enough and called the whole thing off. There was outrage all around."

"So you've been bucking the system a long time then?"

The Doctor grinned. "We even went on to have another child together a few years later. A girl and a boy. Then I attended her marriage to a man she actually did love several years after that, who eventually regenerated into a woman and the kids were pretty excited to have two mommies, so that was good."

"So four wives, two children. Any husbands?"

"Almost. Complete accident, that, but nothing official. Or even almost official. I mean, technically speaking, the marriage licenses for Bess and Mar saying they married 'The Doctor' aren't likely to hold up in a court of law…"

"But your weddings to Scarlette and River do?"

"Different cultural contexts, so yes. But I should say this—and it's all I have to say on the matter when I'm done—River was the only woman I married in a traditional Gallifreyan ceremony."

Clara bowed her head respectfully. "And your granddaughter?"

"I have three, actually. Susan, Gillian, and Zezanne. Susan was the one I took to Akhaten. She traveled with my first incarnation. Well, so did Gillian and her brother, John, but Susan was, erm–"

"Your favorite?"

The Doctor grinned. "Don't tell anyone I said."

Clara made a zipping motion across her lips.

"I didn't really know Zezanne. Only met her a time or two as a baby. She was the daughter of Miranda Dawkins, a young Time Lady I adopted in my eighth incarnation."

"So two biological kids, one adopted daughter, and four grandkids?"

"Correct on the grandkid count, but I had one other…" The Doctor touched his throat, his eyes fluttering. "Jenny. No mother. Well, that's a lie. I'm her mother. And her father."

"Come again?"

"She was progenated from my DNA as a fully grown adult, making me technically both her mother and her father. She was 'born' on a planet called Messaline in the sixty-first century, but – but Jenny didn't make it. She was my daughter, but she couldn't regenerate. She came into my life and left it the same day."

Clara noted the quiver in her friend's hand as he spoke of his non-Gallifreyan daughter. She wanted to reach out and press a reassuring hand to his knee, but she feared it might be inappropriate. "I'm–"

"It was a long time ago," The Doctor said suddenly. His funny mask rose again and he flashed a reassuringly unreassuring smile at her. "And finally, there were the great grandkids: Ian, Barbara, and David Junior. They were the first three, all humans adopted by Susan and her husband, David. They had so much trouble conceiving because he was human and she was a Time Lady. But eventually they went on to have Alex, but because of his hybrid parentage he wasn't able to regenerate either."

"It's okay," Clara said before he could go any further. She could hear the tears in his voice. "I didn't mean to stir up painful memories, I just–"

"Wanted the truth."

"Yes."

"As you should." The Doctor wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. "I guess when you live as long as I do, you rack up quite a convoluted family tree."

"It's not quite as bad I thought actually."

"Oh, well, that's good."

Clara squinted, unable to tell if he was being sarcastic or genuine. "Anyway, thank you."

"No," he replied, this time evidently genuine. "Thank you. Painful or not, sometimes it's good to talk about them; to remember them."

Clara leaned forward conspiratorially. "Tell me then: what are some good stories?"

The Doctor leaned in and straightened his bowtie. "Well, there was this one time on Easter Island…"


End file.
